


SPF

by orphan_account



Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Beach Sex, Day At The Beach, Hand Jobs, M/M, One Shot, Oral Sex, Sunburn, [comes stomping in after 5 months holding giant chunk of a one shot] HEY GUYS, a failure to edit before uploading!, british fussines!, featuring all your dunkin' faves!, is there really no tag for, personal insecurity!, sleep orgasm, weird ocean metaphors!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-21
Updated: 2020-03-21
Packaged: 2021-03-01 05:33:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,775
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23250040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: Jack tries to retrieve Brian after his sudden departure, but Brian refuses to play along.
Relationships: Jack Gallagher/Brian Kendrick
Kudos: 4





	SPF

“And you just bloody _left?”_

Usually, Jack is pale; downright snowy, even. But as he stands on the doormat before Brian in the tropical heat, his cheeks are lobster shell red with sheer rage—or perhaps just sunburn.

Brian says nothing and pops the blue popsicle from his lips, offering Jack a lick. Predictably, Jack swats it away.

“I don’t have time for games, Kendrick.”

Brian slides his sunglasses to the end of his nose, peering down at the raspberry-flavored puddle by his feet.

“Douche,” he huffs out.

Jack is only further incensed. He steps forward to force his way into Brian's hotel room.

“Enough of this. What were you thinking, running off like—“

Jack looks dismayed as Brian immediately begins to throw the door shut on him, but he’s just quick enough to wedge his polished shoe in the gap. It succeeds in holding the door open—but it still hurts, and he grits his teeth with the pain. It doesn’t help his mood much.

 _“Wanker!”_ He cries.

Brian goes to the couch to watch Jack lean against the wall and massage the arch of his foot. It’s always funny to watch Jack struggle; inevitably the “gentleman” half of his identity recedes in favor of the “British” half.

When Jack looks up at Brian again he’s unscrewing a beer—a peculiarly branded stout labeled “Koko B. Ware - Russian Imperial.” His unusual tastes never rest.

“As flattered as I am that you flew across the country just to bitch at me—“ he pauses to take a gulp, “—can you get to your fucking point, maybe?”

Jack’s brow crinkles up, only for Brian to smirk at him. He’s too misplaced—standing there in a waistcoat and trousers in the Hawaiian heat—for Brian to regard with any seriousness.

“The ‘fucking point’,” Jack hisses, “is that you left us without warning and now the whole show’s bloody empty.”

It’s not untrue. At this point Brian and Jack make up half of the 205 Live roster by themselves.

Brian grimaces in that way of his, a smile at first glance until you recognize the disdain inherent in it.

“Oh, so ‘E gave enough of a shit to send you after me, huh?” He asks. Jack keeps quiet, lips bitten into a flat line beneath the curlicues of his mustache, so Brian goes on. “You can go head back and tell ‘em I’m not coming with. I need a fucking break after all this.”

Jack’s fists clench and unclench at his sides, staring Brian down hard. “You’re coming with me, Kendrick. Whether either of us like it or not.”

Brian sets the beer down on the coffee table (plainly missing the coaster, Jack is chagrined to notice). “Maybe I wasn’t clear, Jackie-boy. I’ll be nice and slow now: I’m. Not. _Going.”_

He can see the way Jack’s muscles twitch, all ready to move into a grappling stance, so Brian raises one hand. “Not in the mood. Try it and I’ll just call the cops.”

Jack exhales through his teeth, standing upright. No matter what had happened in the past, Kendrick could never resist a fight. This was more dire than he’d expected.

“Fine, then. What are you in the mood for?” Jack asks. A _“bloody idiot”_ is implied silently at the end of his question.

Brian hums, stretching out his arms and looking out at the skyline beyond the balcony. The tropical sunset is in rare form; the sun explodes like an overripe tangerine, juices spilling into a blanket of swirling pinks and violets.

“Right now? I’m gonna finish my beer out on the balcony. Then, shit, maybe I’ll just go to bed.”

Brian gets up creakily with his beer can and makes his way to the back door. Jack is hardly a step behind him.

“You can’t _stay_ here, Kendrick.”

“I already am,” Brian says simply as he slides the door open, filling the room with the warm, tangy sea breeze. “Booked up for a whole month...but who knows?”

He turns to look over his shoulder at Jack, clearly relishing his agitation. “If I wanna extend my stay, all I have to do is make a call.”

He steps onto the balcony and slides the door shut behind him, leaving Jack on the other side, his jaw jutting from side to side in consternation.

He can’t talk Brian into returning. He can’t twist him into submission like he can in any other fight. So what can he do?

Jack feels a buzzing in his back pocket. He takes out his phone and finds a new message.

DINERO: Well did you get him??

Jack frowns as he types out his reply.

GENTLEMAN J: He’s here, if that’s what you meant. But he refuses to comply. He won’t even let us settle it.

DINERO: Shit. What’re you gonna do????

Jack looks out the window to Brian, laid out in a Morris chair and gazing over the palm trees and sea, strands of hair wavering in the breeze. He’s still; perhaps asleep already. Jack frowns. He swore that he wouldn’t, couldn’t leave without Kendrick.

GENTLEMAN J: I suppose I’m staying the night.

-

Jack refused half of the bed, so all that remained for him was the couch. It’s far less than ideal. A crossbar rests right under his spine all night; a vent directly overhead in the ceiling leaves his face ice cold. When he awakens the next morning, he’s hardly rested—which makes it even more infuriating to see Brian right there, carefree as he slathers sunblock on his arms.

“Beach day, Jackie-boy?”

Jack rolls over onto his side, away from the searing sun pouring through the window.

“Oh, absolutely not.”

He’s willing to play along in some respects to get Kendrick back, but he isn’t about to go this far. He’s always detested the beach.

Brian only hums, sitting down on the arm of the couch with a great squeak. Jack can smell him: sand, sea salt and SPF 80.

“Not very productive of you to just lie around while I’m out, is it?” He asks. After a moment, Jack tentatively lifts his head.

“Will you come back if I accompany you?” He asks. Brian smiles blithely, slinging a towel over his shoulder.

“Nah. But you might get lonely here by yourself.”

Jack merely tugs the edges of the pillow over the sides of his head.

“I assure you that I would like nothing more.”

So Brian just shrugs and heads out, door clicking shut behind him. Jack cautiously turns his head, waiting a few seconds before sitting up, a bit put-off. He hadn’t been expecting Brian to leave so easily, and he’s almost bothered by the fact that he did.

But he and Brian have squared off mentally several times in the past, and Jack isn’t about to lose this battle of wits. So he tugs the towel (a beach towel that he purloined for want of a blanket) back up to his chin and settles in until Kendrick returns.

Jack opens his eyes slowly some time later. He stretches, feeling sleep thick in his bones after what was surely a good, hard nap. How long has it been? He decides to check the time.

Only 20 minutes.

Oh, damn.

With a frown he places his phone down and turns back over for some more rest. When he checks to see how much time has passed again, it’s now been ten more minutes.

This process goes on for a few more cycles until Jack clenches his phone in hand, then exhales and drops the phone before he goes ahead and throws it at the wall. No need to make Kendrick pay any extra property damages; that’d hardly get them on the same page.

Jack looks about the room and finds it much the same as before: musty, hot and lonesome. Stale sunlight is cast in bars across Jack’s feet, which twitch aimlessly as he thinks of just what the hell to do. In his haste to get to a plane he’d neglected to pack much of anything—no books, puzzles nor Nintendo.

Cautiously, Jack stands and walks to the sliding partition that separates him from Brian's room. He pulls this open and squints in the bright daylight cast through the balcony doors.

Jack creeps forward to take a closer look through the finger-smudged glass. Down below is a bank of soft white sand, punctuated only by a blue umbrella and a beach chair. Brian is laid out there in the sun, and, to Jack’s mild surprise, there’s not another soul in sight; only the man with the plan and the endless green sea.

_Perhaps it’s not so bad out there, then, if you’re all alone. It’s being seen that’s the worst part._

Thoughts begin to form in Jack’s mind, and he does all that he can to chase them away. He’s not going to give in yet.

He sits back down on the edge of the couch (wincing; he sits down right on top of that rod). With nothing better to do, he stares at the screen of his phone and waits.

10:25 AM.

Ridiculous thought, anyway. Jack has no trunks to speak of. He’s lucky he even remembered to bring his toothbrush.

10:25 AM.

And the sun was brutal enough when he was away from the beach. Out here in the tropics he’s liable to fry like a fish. He may even be burnt already; his skin does feel a bit too warm.

10:25 AM.

Kendrick cannot win. It’s out of the question.

10:26 AM.

_But he’s out there. You can’t bring him home when he’s out there and you’re in here._

10:26 AM.

_Besides, he’s all alone. You can reason with him this way. There’s nothing to distract him._

10:26 AM.

Jack doesn’t have a thing to wear.

10:26 AM.

_Surely Kendrick wouldn’t mind if you pilfered a pair of his. After everything you’ve been through together, this is nothing._

10:27 AM.

With a curse Jack slams the phone facedown on the side table. Hell with this; he’s not getting anywhere doing nothing.

He steps into Brian's bedroom and pulls open one of the drawers.

It’s time for Jack to try negotiating.

-

Brian lifts his sunglasses, thinking his eyes are deceiving him. They aren’t—it really _is_ Jack approaching him with a towel draped over his head, donning a pair of his own swim trunks. His steps are quick as hot sand touches his feet.

“Well, well,” Brian tsks. “Thought you were staying inside.”

Jack glowers into Brian's eyes as he hotfoots toward him.

“Let me under there. It’s too bloody hot.”

Brian is rather blasé as he inches to the side of the chair, making room for Jack to have a seat under the umbrella’s shade. Jack plops down with a sigh and pulls his knees close, away from the direct sun.

“Those look good on ya,” Brian says, nodding down at the trunks. Jack sniffs derisively.

“It’s not as if I had many options,” he says, pinching the garish aqua fabric between his fingers. “I simply made do with what was available.”

Brian hums and takes a sip of the half-warm beer in his hand. “You wanna borrow anything else, you can just ask, ya know.”

Jack’s lips twitch to form a rather unfriendly smile. “That won’t be necessary. I can’t say I’m suited to your fashions.”

He’s lying, partially. American swim trunks are long and floppy, and Jack is secretly grateful for the extra coverage. In a European cut he may burst into flames.

Brian doesn’t seem particularly phased by the insult regardless, offering Jack a sip of beer from his can. Jack denies it with a limp-wristed wave. “No, thank you, please.”

“Not good enough, hm?” Brian clicks his tongue in disapproval. “Not my trunks, not my beer...I’m sorry, yknow?”

Jack’s brow furrows. “Sorry for what?”

Brian takes another deep swallow. “I know I’ve never quite been up to your standards.”

Jack looks taken aback. “I beg your pardon?”

Brian’s expression cracks with a bit of amusement. “Hey, man, no need to get upset. I’m not.”

“That so?” Jack asks. Brian takes a long sip of beer and gulps, giving Jack a wry smirk.

“Nope,” he says, “I couldn’t care less.”

Jack can’t help but think he saw something sad hidden somewhere in that smirk.

“And anyway,” Brian says, turning his gaze out to the endless blue surf, “I’m on vacation now, so it doesn’t matter how you or anybody else on that show feels about me.”

Jack breathes in through his nostrils and rubs the bridge of his nose. This feeling is familiar. He spent more than a year dealing with Kendrick and all the agitation that came with it.

“Please, Mr. Kendrick. I need you to listen to reason.”

There’s even a plaintive hand laid, however hesitantly, on Brian’s shoulder. It’s carefully chaste, gentlemanly and unemotional. Brian only gazes down at it for a second before shrugging it away disinterestedly.

“And I’ve been trying to make _you_ listen to reason since you showed up here. I’m tired and I don’t wanna go back. I just want to relax...”

Now Jack is peering at Brian with those hard, frustrated eyes of his, the coldest that hazel has ever looked.

“...Maybe you wanna try it sometime.”

“Bloody hell,” Jack mutters and turns away. He’s becoming more and more certain that this is a waste of his time.

“Hey,” Brian says, his expression hardening, “I mean it. You’re nothing but tension. Just look.”

Jack keeps his back to Brian, offering no response at all. Brian reaches out and pinches the nape of Jack’s neck, and he lets out a small yelp as if a gun has been fired.

_”Christ!”_

“See?” Brian says. “You’re way too wound up, Jackie-boy. You ought to take a break too.”

With that, Brian stands and saunters down the shore towards the tide. Jack watches somewhat resentfully as he goes. Even now, Brian's nerve amazes him—pushing (or pinching) at Jack’s buttons, then wandering away from his attempts at discussion.

When they were allies, Brian's sheer stubbornness was charming. Now, from where Jack is sitting, abandoned, stranded beneath a beach umbrella, it’s much more frustrating than amusing. Even after all this time, Jack hasn’t even begun to crack Brian open.

“C’mon, Jackie!” Brian calls, standingup to his ankles in the water. “Get some sun!”

“Sun?” Jack scoffs at the very idea. “Please.”

So Brian shrugs and goes back to what he’s been doing with aggravating frequency this whole trip: ignoring Jack.

It’s enough to make Jack’s blood boil, and at this point he’s gotten so hot that a dip in the sea would be good for him—but he isn’t surrendering. He’s tired of losing.

For a while, then, Jack sits back, contenting himself with the view of the horizon. The ocean lies rather placidly against the clear sky of the day, two blue squares nestled comfortably together.

It’s a pretty picture to look at, but not terribly exciting. Jack feels his eyelids become slowly heavier as the effects of the restless night begin to take their toll. He begins to search for something else to occupy his attention.

For only a moment he pauses to look at Brian. He’s waded further out into the sea, water lapping gently about his knees. One hand is held out before his eyes to blot out the brutal sun, near noon in its ascent—Jack stares at the tanned skin on Brian's arm with some envy. Then there’s the hair on his head, deep brown and kissed by sunlight, wavering gently in the breeze, and suddenly Jack envies that too, and before Jack knows it there’s adrenaline rushing through his veins and he can’t stand to look at it anymore.

With a huff Jack lies down on his back, staring into the underside of the umbrella. For a minute there’s much to be interested in—bent-in spokes, mysterious yellow blotches—but soon it loses its luster, and Jack is now drifting off again. He can feel the sun on his body, drifting slowly over him in its trek across the sky. Jack is aware enough; he feels the heat inching up his legs, forcing him to tuck them back inside.

He’s in an acutely dangerous situation, at war with the sun and his own consciousness, pinned between the two of them. It’s already a losing battle as they combine their attacks, the heat rising in gleaming waves off the sand and into Jack’s head, making his eyelids droop. The air is still, letting the warmth wrap unrelentingly about his body like a blanket. He feels himself start to uncurl, sagging into the chair as he blinks out into the horizon.

Everything is blue and undulating. The sky, the waves of the sea, the trunks around Brian's midsection as he gambols, swaying in the tide.

Like he hasn’t a care in the world, Jack thinks to himself. He feels a pang of something in his chest as he does, but he’s just too tired to try to analyze what it might be right now. Jack surrenders into sleep at last beneath the hot sun, the image of Brian standing in the water the last thing in his eyes.

-

Hours later, Jack awakens with a shudder. His eyelids creak open, stinging in the light of the late afternoon sun. He has a death grip on the arms of the beach chair, his body racked by tremors.

He’s had a dream, of some sort, though in the awakening he now finds that his memory is fading rapidly, hazy like the rippling sky above him. He struggles to bring the details to light, finding only fragments: swimming in a gray and uninviting sea; a stranger—or, at the very least, someone whose face Jack can no longer recall. Arms wound around his waist as he dove down deep, deep, almost sinking; more swimming—

No. No. Now it’s kissing, Jack’s certain; can feel the shadow of the dream tingling on his mouth. It nearly makes him shiver again, remembering himself engaged in the obscene act. And it had felt real; so devastatingly real that the memory almost makes Jack’s lips blister.

But who? Obviously, it had to be the stranger. But the face, muddled and smeared in his memory...Jack knows he knows who it was. But he can’t summon the clarity that he needs.

All he remembers is that they had blue eyes.

Jack settles back into the beach chair, perplexed. He finds now that his heartbeat is pounding in his chest—indeed, he comes to realize, it has been since he woke up. In fact, he feels the familiar fading rush of adrenaline in his blood, as if he’s just undergone something _terribly_ exciting...

Oh.

Oh, god.

Jack peers down at himself only to see exactly what he was afraid of. Between his outstretched legs is his cock, heavy and half-hard. A smear of hot cum is spreading over the fabric of his swim trunks, just over his tip.

 _“Bloody hell,”_ Jack breathes.

“I’ll say.”

Jack almost jumps out of his skin as Brian speaks. He turns to find Brian—frustratingly tan from his afternoon in the sun—approaching from the direction of the hotel, a plastic shopping bag over his wrist.

Jack scrambles, trying to conceal his shame with a towel. Thankfully, Brian's attention is elsewhere as he nods down at Jack’s legs.

“Look at you. They’re gettin’ good and pink.”

Brian lays a hand on Jack’s calf, and suddenly his flesh begins to burn.

 _“Shit,”_ Jack hisses, jerking away from his touch. Now he can see Brian is right: his legs are as hot and vibrantly pink as steamed shrimp.

Brian merely tsks, looking over Jack’s skin with disapproval. His hands hover just over his flesh, afraid that direct contact may cause more pain.

“Too bad,” Brian sighs. “It happened while you were sleeping.”

“Thank you so _bloody_ much for waking me up,” Jack spits out. Brian doesn’t respond, instead reaching into the plastic bag over his arm and searching its contents.

Jack begins to feel quite impatient. “What are you supposed to be doing now?” He demands.

Brian hums, pulling his hand from the bag and revealing what he’s holding like a magician’s trick: a tube of thick green goop labeled “aloe”.

“If you’re not gonna take care of yourself, I’ll do it for you.”

Jack can’t help but think that that phrase sounds familiar. It calls back to late nights together, when Brian was too mired in a funk to cook or clean during his injury, forcing Jack to take control of affairs. But he doesn’t feel like bringing that up now. He merely reaches for the tube.

“I’ll be taking that, thanks.”

“Nope.” Brian shakes his head and presses a hand to Jack’s chest, easing him back into the beach chair. “You asked for this when you didn’t put on sunblock.”

Jack tries to scoff something out at this indignity—perhaps that he hadn’t planned to be here at all; that Kendrick had left him no choice with his impulsive behavior—but he’s too galled to say a single word.

Jack’s brows furrow as he watches Brian uncap the tube, dispensing a generous amount of gel into his palm. Brian spreads it into either hand, reaches out tentatively, then draws back for a moment as he thinks.

“Open your legs,” he finally says.

Jack moves to stand up and walk directly into the ocean, never to be seen again, but Brian holds him back with a slicked-up hand.

“It’s easier to get both legs at once that way, alright?”

“You—“ Jack barks out a laugh that’s almost hysterical, his eyes widened, “you really think that I’m that stupid, you perverted bastard?”

The shove Brian gives him is not especially forceful, but Jack is still taken off-guard, pressing back hard into the beach chair. He looks up to Kendrick, eyes stern beneath the darkness of his sunglasses, and feels a pang of embarrassment.It isn’t helped much by the way Brian shakes his head as he kneels in the sand.

“Shit, Jack. Something’s gotten into you lately.”

“I...” Jack swallows as shame washes over him, crossing his legs together tightly. “I was only...”

He doesn’t quite manage to finish the thought, so Brian only sighs and shakes his head again.

“This is what I was talking about. You’re jumpy as hell, you’re makin’ accusations...”

The reprimand is rather gentle, but it still stings Jack on the inside. He folds his hands meekly in his lap, just over the hard pink line that demarcates his burnt skin.

“I’m sorry,” he says. “I shouldn’t have said that so freely.”

The sternness in Brian’s eyes softens to sympathy. He reaches out and rests a hand on Jack’s knee—the gel almost hisses against his skin.

“You need a break, Teacup,” Brian says. “You don’t wanna end up like...”

Brian doesn’t say “Gulak” out loud, knowing the taste that name leaves in both of their mouths by now, but Jack is perfectly aware of what was intended. And really, he isn’t wrong. _That_ man had an unparalleled talent for working himself into multiple psychotic breaks.

Jack lets out a breath and allows his defenses to weaken, legs untwisting from each other.

“I promise you,” he murmurs, avoiding Brian's gaze, “I couldn’t possibly go that far.”

Brian says nothing in response. He moves until he is finally seated in front of Jack, who offers his seared legs with resignation. Brian gets right to work, massaging the aloe gel into Jack’s reddened skin.

The sensation is unusual for Jack; it’s his first sunburn in almost ten years of actively avoiding daylight exposure. He wasn’t prepared for the pain, unbearable as needles and pins being thrust into his flesh.

The relief the gel brings to his skin feels good, beyond good; perhaps Jack is being dramatic, but in contrast to the pain of the burn, the respite is almost too much for him to bear. Jack consciously fights away a moan and attempts to ease into relaxation. It’s a difficult task he’s faced with, trying to enjoy the soothing gel without seeming to take too much pleasure in Brian's hands—

His hands. Dammit, his _hands_ ; Jack had to lead himself into a trap and think about Brian's hands. His thighs clamp tightly together.

Jack can’t deny that certain thoughts had crossed his mind before. Multiple times, even. They were strange, likely lingering in him from passing, thoughtless exchanges, when Brian maybe grabbed Jack’s wrist or patted his back as they walked out of the arena. It left him wanting—some nights, left him wanting intensely.

Jack thought that he’d forgotten all of this when he and Brian had gone their separate ways more than a year ago. Now, alone on a beach, under the most absurd circumstances, Brian is here again. And his hands are all over Jack.

“You’re whimpering,” Brian hums. Jack tries to swallow his own voice.

“I-I’m what?” He asks, pretending not to know. Now Brian lifts his head, sun bleached hair hanging across his face. His eyes are crystal blue, and Jack feels his pulse quicken. _Blue eyes..._

“Whimpering,” Brian repeats, squeezing more gel into his palm. “Like a dog.”

“It’s...the sunburn,” Jack says feebly. “It hurts.”

“That bad?” Brian asks. His gaze is piercing; Jack can feel it even when he squeezes his own eyes shut.

“D-dreadful,” Jack says. “It’s why I bloody hate the beach...”

Brian smiles as he presses his hands back into Jack’s skin. It’s a bit more forceful now, bordering on a massage.

“Shit,” Brian hums. One hand is caressing Jack’s thigh, the other kneading into the back of his calf. “Tense. Feel like you’ll break.”

Jack feels like he’ll break, too. Kendrick’s touch is contradictory, soothing and agitating all at once. Brian overwhelms Jack just by being here, being closer than he has been for quite some time now. Jack’s drunk from his mere presence.

“You didn’t say I was getting a rub down,” Jack breathes out in a laugh. That’s a mistake, and he realizes that almost instantly. Brian smirks—Jack’s just given himself away.

He’s really enjoying this.

Renewing the aloe in his palms again, Brian continues to work at the sunburnt flesh, delighted to hear more sighs and half-suppressed moans, and only barely avoiding chuckling when Jack rakes a hand over his face. This little session is running him ragged.

“Is it feeling any better?” Brian asks. His fingertips are trailing ever higher on Jack’s thighs, edging up beneath the loose edge of his swim trunks. Jack lets out a soft hiss, leg snapping up at the knee.

“N-not that high, please, not that high—“

Babbling. He may as well just beg Brian for it right now.

Brian cocks his head to the side, and now Jack is certain that he’s only pretending not to know what he’s doing. Those eyes are still gleaming, deep sea blue, and all at once Jack can’t look at him directly. That makes Brian smirk.

“Something the matter, Jackie?” He asks. He lays a hand on Jack’s pale stomach, and tries not to smile as he feels his muscles tighten in response.

Jack’s face screws up tightly, trying too hard not to bear his emotion on his face. “Nothing,” he says, more of a plea to himself than a response. “Nothing is the matter, Kendrick, please...”

Brian sighs through his nose. Jack is doing all in his power to not receive his message. A gentleman can be as stubborn as any bastard when it suits him.

A more direct approach is needed.

“I don’t believe you, Jackie-boy,” Brian murmurs in a breath, hands slowly pulling away from Jack’s skin. Jack nearly whimpers again as Brian's touch recedes.

“M-Mr. Kendrick...”

Brian licks his lips. “You thought I didn’t notice, didn’t you?”

Jack processes Brian’s words just a fraction of a second too slowly. Before he can even draw a breath Brian is _there,_ between Jack’s thighs and cupping hard at his balls and cock, forcing a gasp from his lips.

_“Kendrick!”_

“You’ve been half-hard since before I even got here,” Brian says dryly. He’s already got a hand wrapped lightly around Jack’s shaft, rubbing at his clothed tip with his thumb. “Matter of fact, it looks like you got a bit of a mess here…”

Jack swallows hard. His cheeks tingle with rushing blood; his thoughts grow dizzy and disconnected as he tries to speak. He thinks maybe his mouth is flapping, tripping over gibberish, but Brian presses a finger up against his lips—and Jack sobs weakly at his touch.

“You’re gonna relax, Jackie...” Brian’s voice is a whisper, full of bad intentions. His hands are already sliding down Jack’s sides, grasping the band of his trunks. “I’m gonna see to that.”

Jack is powerless, trying to plead but speaking only syllables and half-words. His ability to think has been destroyed by Brian, by his warm, heavy hands and sharp blue eyes.

The board shorts are slid off and discarded in the sand. Brian can’t help but laugh at the contrast between the bright pink and pale white of Jack’s flesh, but he’s still kind enough to shake his head and murmur, “Poor baby.”

Jack doesn’t protest; just spreads his legs wide open, presenting himself. His cock is half-hard, almost ashamed of itself, tip still lightly sticky.

Brian licks his lips. Jack stares as he does—those lips had been on his in a dream less than an hour before, and now he knows they’ll be all over him in even less time.

Tsking, Brian reaches down and takes Jack’s shaft in his hand. He almost coos as he does; the blood is rushing now, and he can feel Jack hardening by the second.

“I knew it,” Brian breathes out, smirking. With a light squeeze, he begins to pump, surrounding Jack’s cock with sweet friction. “For a gentleman, you’re fucking filthy.”

 _“P-please...”_ Jack breathes out, drilling up into Brian’s hand, his dick throbbing as it hardens—it stings in a way that Jack can’t bear for much longer _._

“K-Kendrick...f-fuckin’ _hell,_ Kendrick...” He lets out a low moan from deep in his chest. Blindly, Jack’s hands slide down, searching for that long, soft hair to tangle up in. Brian bats them away with a smirk.

“No, no...no touching...” He says. The expression on his face only grows more smug as Jack whines, jostling his pinkish legs petulantly.

“Kendrick, _please...”_

Brian clicks his tongue. He squeezes one of Jack’s hands in his own, which seems to calm him from his fit for a moment.

“Not ‘til you behave...” He chides. Jack’s lips curl into a needy pout.

“W-what do I do...?” Jack asks, hips writhing from side to side in a way that makes Brian smirk.

“Hold still.” Brian’s voice is firm, and Jack is barely able to obey it, flattening himself into the beach chair. Brian smiles at his acquiescence. “Good boy.”

Now his hand starts twisting around Jack’s cock. It’s slow and careful, almost lazy, but that doesn’t stop Jack from yelping out, hips snapping up flat into Brian’s grasp. There’s a shot of precum that narrowly misses landing in Kendrick’s sunkissed hair.

 _“Shit,”_ he sobs, legs shaking. _“Shit, shit...”_

Brian shakes his head and tuts, teasing Jack’s cock with another light squeeze.

“Now, that’s not the way a gentleman talks, is it...?”

Jack snarls, lifting his head. His eyes are fierce in a way that Brian has been missing for a long time.

“I’m not a fucking gentleman.”

Those blue eyes darken with a smirk. Brian lowers his head between Jack’s thighs.

“That’s what I want to hear...”

And Brian takes it just like that, swallowing Jack in one slow, careful stroke. Jack chokes. Brian’s mouth is _hot,_ so hot that Jack forgets the pain rushing through his legs to focus on bliss itself. He’s already falling apart, jerking and gasping as he drills his cock into Brian’s open throat. Thank god Brian doesn’t protest, pull away and tell him to behave; he just gazes up at Jack with his sparkling eyes, his affectionate stare washing over him in waves that sharpen his pleasure. God, they’d been apart too long.

Jack’s eyes almost cross as he feels the warmth begin to pool in his stomach. He’s getting close, and it’s embarrassing how quickly Brian has dragged him to the edge, but he doesn’t even have the mind to care about his pride—he can’t care about anything but cumming and cumming hard, selfishly filling Brian’s mouth until it’s dripping down his chin.

Brian’s mouth...Jack hisses, spine tensing as Brian masterfully encircles his cap with the tip of his tongue.

_“Christ, Kendrick...”_

Brian’s mouth is soft, silky and warm and perfect—a complete contrast to his hard exterior of a worn-down, tired man. On some level, Jack always knew this about him; while Jack is a gentleman hiding a pitch black evil streak, Brian is a bastard hiding his vulnerable heart.

Jack can feel it; can feel it in the caring, painstaking way that Brian sucks at his cock, the soft hands resting lightly upon his thighs, and in those eyes...deep, ocean blue eyes that suck him in further and further in until Jack is hurtling toward the bottom.

Jack suddenly goes rigid, shrieking as his body seizes. The world is numb, whited out as his orgasm overwhelms him. He thinks that he’s drowning.

When vision returns to his bleary eyes, Jack sees Brian still between his legs. The sunset rests behind him, casting his hair in a luminous glow.

 _“Brian...”_ Jack whispers hoarsely, reaching out toward him in a daze. He’s too drained to guide him properly, so with a smirk Brian crawls forward and rests his head on Jack’s chest.

“I knew it, Jackie...” Brian hums, his own voice low and slurred. “You just needed to relax...”

Jack doesn’t respond properly; just whines and nudges at Brian’s face. Brian pretends to roll his eyes as he arches up, giving Jack a deep kiss that leaves him shuddering. God, he could taste himself in Kendrick’s mouth...

“Feel better...?” Brian asks. His voice is soft and careful in a way that Jack would normally find suspicious, but now calms him even as his heartbeat still throbs in his chest.

“Yes,” Jack breathes, kissing him again. He can still taste himself on that tongue, but now he’s finding a bit of Brian’s own flavor as well. “Oh, fuck me, _yes._ ”

Brian smirks, and now Jack can see traces of his own orgasm still caught in the bristles of his beard. “Don’t give me any more ideas...”

Before Jack can even respond, Brian is kissing him again, overpowering him. Jack pants, feeling himself begin to come alive again. He can barely breathe, stuttering and begging in those few seconds that Brian allows him air.

“Oh, fuck…Brian…fuck, _yes...”_

_-_

_“Fuck,_ Kendrick...”

Jack hisses as Brian lays the fresh ice pack upon his leg, nearly sizzling on his flesh.

“Come on, Jackie boy...” Brian reaches out to pat Jack encouragingly, hovering over his thigh for a moment before settling on his shoulder. “It’s good for ya.”

Jack would like to argue, but he knows that he’ll never win a debate against _The_ Brian Kendrick. He merely sulks as he rests his legs upon the stack of pillows laid out on the hotel bed and tries not to move.

Well, maybe he can argue just a little.

“Is this all really necessary?” He asks, fiddling with the television remote. “My legs are burnt, not broken…”

A smirk is on Brian’s face as he sits back, rubbing at his hair with a towel. The steam from the shower they’ve just taken is still hanging in the air.

“It’s supposed to make you comfortable,” he says. “You’re unwinding, remember?”

Jack gazes down at himself. He’s bound up in one of the complimentary robes offered by the house, a thick white linen that makes his pink legs look even more absurd in contrast.

“I didn’t expect that unwinding would look so ridiculous…”

“Ah, ah,” Brian scolds, wagging a finger at Jack as he stands, then sits upon he mattress by his side. “You’re doing it again. You’re overthinking it. That’s why you need this.” And he caps off the thought with an uncharacteristic kiss to the tip of Jack’s nose. The action makes Jack blush, instinctively shielding his face for a moment with his hand before lowering it again.

“I must admit,” Jack says, shifting just enough to rest upon his elbows, “vacation seems to be doing you a world of good.”

“You think so?” Brian asks, head tilted. He blinks at Jack with eyes that are bright and clear, softened and rested in a way that he hasn’t seen in a long time. It makes Jack’s heartbeat race.

“Y-yes,” Jack answers, clearing his throat. “I know it has.”

Brian’s smile is unusually wide as he swings up his legs onto the bed, lying comfortably next to Jack. “If you think that, then...”

Jack hangs on as Brian’s voice trails off, silent for a log moment; watches as his expression transforms from contentment to doubt.

“Then?” He asks. “Then what?”

“I...well.” Brian clears his throat diverts his stare from Jack. “I know you have to fly back tomorrow, if you can...”

Jack bites his lip, pensively searching Brian’s face. Finally, he says cautiously, “It would be the responsible thing to do.”

Brian silently nods, his expression resigned in a fashion that Jack has seen and been secretly heartbroken by before. They lie together for a quiet moment, Brian’s head wedged up against Jack’s shoulder, before Jack finally speaks again.

“I have to admit something else to you, Mr. Kendrick,” he says, hands folded formally in his lap. Brian turns his blue eyes up toward Jack’s face.

“What’s that?” He asks. Jack again bites his lip, taking a breath before answering.

“I wasn’t sent here to retrieve you by anybody.”

Brian’s eyebrows arch up in mild intrigue. “No shit?” He asks.

“None. I...” Jack clears his throat, feeling color rushing to his cheeks again. “I came of my own accord.”

Brian squints. “Why would you do that?”

Jack sighs, running a hand across his hair. “Because I’m alone out there and the show’s being overrun with a whole batch of entitled young wankers?”

As Jack had anticipated, Brian’s eyes darken just slightly at the mention of “entitled young wankers”.

“And?” He asks. Jack lets out a sigh of defeat.

“And I can’t...I can’t _win._ Not by myself.”

Brian’s face is now hard, eyes scanning Jack up and down. Jack swallows—those eyes of Kendrick’s have always had a way of seeing right into his core. It shakes him every time, and now it compels him to ramble on like a fool. “Please, don’t think for a moment I’m begging you to come save me from some mess. It’s just that the entire thing is shifting around as if they’re trying to get rid of us, those of us that have been here since the start, and everything that we’ve built, and I know that you care because you were the one that—“

Brian lays a hand on Jack’s cheek, and he’s instantly silenced, swallowing his words.

“Listen,” Brian murmurs, “I hear everything you’re saying. I’m pissed about it too, and I’m gonna come back...but I’m not ready yet. That’s all.”

Jack nods slowly, letting out a deep breath that he had been holding in as long as Brian spoke.

“I-I understand,” he says, easing back into the bed. “I do.”

Brian again gives Jack that deep, searching look. “What do you want to do?”

Jack knows what he’s referring to, but he asks anyway. “What do you mean?”

“Do _you_ want to go?”

Jack grimaces slightly. “What does that matter?”

Brian gives Jack a hopeful smile. “I’d say vacation would treat you well, too.”

Jack can’t stay, of course. He has a job to do, and the gentleman would be loathe to not fulfill his duties. But staring in Brian’s eyes, soft, inviting and blue, makes that very difficult to consider logically, and the subsequent kiss that is suddenly pressed to Jack’s cheek makes that even harder. Jack sighs.

“I suppose I can take a paid leave.”

Brian throws his arms around Jack, drawing him into his arms and kissing him with renewed passion. Jack hisses, his scorched thighs rubbing painfully together as Brian handles him.

_“Brian—Brian—”_

Brian pulls back meekly, backing away from Jack on the mattress.

“Sorry. Got carried away...”

With a pointed roll of the eyes, Jack reaches out for Brian’s collar and drags him back, kissing him carefully. It’s perfect, just as deep and long as it needs to be to make Brian hum, wanting more when Jack pulls back again.

“You’re a bloody idiot, Brian...”

“Yeah,” Brian laughs, running his fingers up through his hair, “yeah, I know.”

Suddenly, Brian rises up from the mattress, reaching over to the nightstand for the aloe gel. Jack lets out a sigh even as he spreads his thighs apart.

“Again?”

“It’s been about an hour,” Brian responds, slotting easily between Jack’s thighs as though he were made to reside there. “You ain’t complaining, are you?”

Of course, Jack isn’t about to protest more of Brian’s attention, but the day in the sun has left him rather tired. Brian seems to realize this as he gazes into Jack’s face, so he adds with a sly purr, “I’ll be gentle...”

Jack can’t resist that voice. He parts his legs further, allowing Brian to get right to work massaging gel into his flesh. The chastity hardly lasts but a few minutes; Brian breezes through the obligation of soothing Jack’s wounds before allowing hid hands to ease gently, lightly up the inner side of Jack’s sensitive thighs. Jack releases a soft moan, Brian handling him like an expert. Suddenly, he whispers something softly, almost as though trying to keep this confession private.

“Th-there was another reason I came.”

Brian pauses, brows quirked curiously. “Oh? What’s that?”

Jack breathes in slowly, then exhales through his nostrils.

“I really missed you.”

A slow smirk, knowing and affectionate, crosses Brian’s lips as he crawls up to press them against Jack’s. The kiss lasts several seconds, soft and warm and slow, until Jack pulls away with a sigh, his expression suddenly changed.

“I-I wish we’d never stopped...” he says wistfully, pressing his forehead to Brian’s. “I still don’t know what I was thinking.”

Before Jack can grieve further he is silenced by yet another kiss. Brian pulls back, amused to find Jack’s eyes soft and wondering, as if he still doesn’t know why on earth Mr. Kendrick would do that.

“Yeah,” Brian says with a sigh, “I don’t know what you were thinking, either. But I do know that you really did just fly your ass out here on your own dollar just to see me.”

Jack feels a faint blush crossing his cheeks. “I-I guess that I did...”

They’re silent for a moment. Brian works diligently, rubbing the aloe into Jack’s skin. Gradually, his massaging grows more urgent, hands skimming higher and brushing against those nerves where he knows Jack is the most sensitive, until the situation is clearly more than simple burn care.

Jack is lying back on the mattress, gasping softly as Brian dots kisses over him, forehead to face to jaw—Jack soon notices Brian is lingering just a bit too long in the latter spot.

“W-what are you doing...?” Jack asks, tensely eager for Brian to move further down. Brian stays put, nuzzling at Jack’s jaw and humming.

“Mmmh...” he smirks up into Jack’s eyes with a grin. “Stubble!”

Jack’s blush deepens with embarrassment. “Oh…well, I suppose it has been a couple of days. I can go take care of it…”

Jack starts to shift, moving to head to the bathroom when Brian halts him, pressing his shoulders down.

“No, no, wait,” Brian says, eyes glistening. “I like it.”

“You…” Jack tilts his head, eyes narrowed, “you _like_ it?”

Brian gives a spirited nod, stray hair falling across his eyes. “Oh, yeah, it makes you look…kind of rugged, really.”

Jack’s heart can’t help but bounce. _Rugged?_ That’ss a new one, far removed from anything that he’s ever associated with; the starched white shirts and the meticulous coiffing and the pale, sensitive skin. Compared to all those tiresome things, “rugged” sounds quite exciting.

“Do you…” Jack clears his throat. “Do you like rugged, Brian?”

Brian arches an eyebrow. “Do I like it? Sure, I suppose…why do you ask?”

“I mean…” Jack breathes out a sigh, looking down at his chest. All at once it seems too bare, too dainty and soft, and he’s embarrassed by himself. “Do you like _me_ rugged?”

What Jack’s saying finally registers with Brian. He sits upright between Jack’s legs and reaches up, caressing his cheek.

“Look, Jackie-boy,” he says gently, “I’m gonna like you no matter what you do or how you look. Okay?”

Jack stares at Brian, hazel eyes gazing deeply into the deep blue sea. For some reason, it makes him think of ships on the waves…

“No matter what?” Jack repeats, his voice almost crackling. Brian smirks crookedly.

“Oh, no. Sounds like you’ve got a plan in mind…?”

Jack laughs, sinking back into the pillows. “You’re the one with the plans,” he carelessly lies, even as images of schooners and swallows drift across his mind.

Of course, when Brian kisses the hollow of Jack’s throat, hands inching further to the inner side of his thighs, something else drifts across his mind as well.

 _“Bloody_ hell, Brian…” Jack hisses, but is cut off again by a careful kiss. Brian laughs against his lips as he finally takes Jack in hand.

“Yeah…I think I have something in mind…”

Jack licks his lips and spreads his thighs open, heedless of the tingling pain it sends through them. Brian’s blue eyes practically gleam at the sight.

“Well, then…” Jack purrs, “won’t you enlighten me, then?”

Those blue eyes are drowning Jack as Brian smirks, lowering his head without hesitation. Jack lets out a soft gasp as it all starts again, crashing over him in waves, the bliss that only a Mr. Kendrick has ever been able to provide time and time again.

Perhaps this vacation really _will_ be good for him.

**Author's Note:**

> This has actually been in the works since November, but life has a phenomenal way of going pear-shaped so it's only been finished now. Some things, like Jack's tattoos, had to be accommodated late in the game because I took so damn long. Thanks for reading.


End file.
